


Ice Cream, Baby

by ImpassionedWriter



Series: Shades of Destiel [Drabbles] [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel likes to make desserts, Destiel - Freeform, Dirty minded Dean, Fluff, Ice cream mishap, M/M, You will never recover from the fluff, awkward boner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpassionedWriter/pseuds/ImpassionedWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a sudden craving and finds more than he was looking for, sitting in an ice cream shoppe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Cream, Baby

Dean has a whim for ice cream.

Which is unusual because he never wants ice cream.

But it's mid-July, 92 degrees, and the windows in his car just cannot roll down far enough to relieve the feeling of being in a sauna.

So, he turns off the road at the first ice cream shop he sees and parks. It's a small building and only three cars are parked outside.

Not giving himself a chance to reconsider, Dean climbs out of his black Chevy Impala and adjusts the leather jacket that hugs his lean form. He hopes the ice cream here is worth stopping for; if it isn't he'll be pissed.

He runs a hand through his hair, hoping to tame it, but it's never cooperated a day in his life. Which is all right, because the spikey bedhead look suits him.

There's a short chime when he pulls the door open and the only other two customers look up. They are an elderly couple and the woman smiles sweetly as her husband gives a friendly wave. They seem to enjoy the company, and Dean nods once, managing a tight lipped smile while he sits down at the table nearest the door. All he wants to do is get his ice cream, eat it, and be on his way. His younger brother, Sam, was leaving for college in a few hours and he was excited to get home and see him off.

Dean's boss almost made him late, but when he explained the reason Bobby sent him on with a proud grin. The older mechanic had been like a second father to these boys and couldn't be happier with the way their lives were going.

The honey-haired twenty year old glances at the menu that lay on the table before him. Almost everything was mouthwateringly tempting; but he wanted plain vanilla. In a cup, or a cone, or however they served it here. That was it. A sweet indulgence to cool off his inner body temperature and make the hour long drive ahead of him more bearable.

He looks up and around, unsure of how orders were taken here. It was the same as everywhere else right?

There are tables placed below windows around the room, an odd one set to fill up open spaces here and there. In the middle of the building is a counter that curves out and borders the dining area. Behind the counter is a wall with one hole, through which to slip orders and send out food. According to the menu, they make a few more special dishes here instead of focusing soley on ice cream.

On either side of the wall, where the counter ends, are two doors. One is marked Restroom and the other is a swinging door that brandishes a sign declaring, 'Employees only'. Despite a shuffling noise that comes from the back, there don't seem to be any signs of life.

Seeming to read his mind, the elderly man calls out, "You've got another customer out here, Cassie."

Unconsciously, Dean perks up with hopes of a young hottie; a girl with high shorts and long blonde hair. The type of girl he liked to think of as small town secret weapons.

To his surprise, the 'Employees only' door swings open and a slightly frazzled looking young man walks out. He is wearing an apron and carrying a notepad.

"Thanks, Pat." The man says, walking swiftly past the couple and approaching Dean's table in the center of the room. Reaching up, he retrieves a pen that was tucked behind his ear and fixes Dean with an expectant stare.

But Dean's voice is nowhere to be found. Instead, his attention is raptly drawn to the person standing before him. He couldn't be much older than Dean himself, and is so full of energy he was nearly vibrating. His chest rose and fell as he took quick breaths, face flushed just a bit. Soft, dark locks were swept to one side, framing a face so perfect it could have been an angel's. He is a handsome little waiter, indeed.

But it isn't this that captures Dean's awareness.

It's his eyes.

He has the most beautiful, wide, bright blue eyes Dean has ever seen. The bluest of blues. That gaze is intoxicating.

The Winchester snaps out of his daze when the other man clears his throat a little impatiently.

"Oh," Dean says, returning to reality, "Uh, can I have... vanilla?"

"You want a plain cone?"

"Yeah." Dean's eyes drop to the name tag pinned to the other man's apron.

 _Cas_.

Without writing anything down, the slim waiter turns and disappears into the back. He is only a moment, and then appears with a freshly made ice cream cone in one hand. Cleanliness isn't an issue for Dean but he is glad to see a napkin wrapped around the cone.

As if he's in a hurry, Cas thrusts out the cone to Dean and purses his lips. _He could use a lesson in people skills_... The blonde thinks distractedly.

Dean reaches for the dessert and is wrapping his fingers around it when Cas lets go. But he doesn't have enough of a grip on it to keep it from upturning and falling right into his lap.

There is a sharp intake of breath and before Dean can process the situation, the raven-haired waiter has a handul of napkins and is kneeling on the floor. "I am _so_ so sorry!" He apologizes profusely, picking up the fallen cone in one hand and wiping the ice cream off Dean's jeans with the other. It's almost like a switch is flipped, and the man's entire focus is aimed toward the mess.

Dean blinks and sits frozen while Cas cleans the mess up. For some reason, his emerald gaze is following the flurried movements of the pale, slim hands that press against his inner thigh. This man must not be very aware of personal space boundaries; although he is very careful not to touch Dean _there_.

But there is something- something almost lewd- with the way his dark head bobs as his body moves, and the white substance dirties his long fingers. The way he frantically tries to clean all traces away; worrying over a thing as trivial as this like it was so important that Dean not walk away angry. Of course, that was how a business stayed open, by keeping its customers happy, not by adorning their laps with messy foods.

Still... Dean feels a familiar heat rush to his groin and knows that if he lets this man paw at him any longer it will get awkard really fast.

He pushes the hands away and Cas straightens, his blue eyes apologetic.

"It's fine, don't worry about it." Dean says, standing up. At full height he is a few inches taller and can see over the other's head to the couple that is smiling mischeviously in his direction.

O-o-okay, it's time to leave. Before his current condition becomes evident to everyone.

He takes a step toward the door, looking down to find his jeans almost completely cleaned of ice cream; there were only a few dark spots where it had soaked in. That meant his pants would get sticky.

"Wait, I can get you another. No charge!" Cas' voice is pleading and it kills Dean a little to leave him like this. But he has no choice, it's already getting uncomfortable to stand.

If he can just get outside to his car, he can turn the radio on and talk himself back down. "Sorry, I don't have time. I need to get going."

Cas gulps and looks down repentantly, "I'm very sorry..."

And for some reason beyond Dean's understanding, his hand moves on its own and pats down the jet black hair that feels feather-soft. "It's fine." He smiles and is met with a relieved sigh.

Dean pulls his hand back and starts to leave, not quite pausing when Cas calls after him, "Please, come back again!"

With his trademark smirk, Dean throws back, "Of course. You still owe me a free cone."

The chime signals his exit and the blonde is met with a blessedly cool breeze. Rubbing the back of his neck he thinks, _For sure it's been too long since I got laid_.

He gets into his sleek black car and turns on the radio. Classic rock music blasts from the speakers and Dean spins his keychain around his finger before sliding it into the ignition. Then he starts up the Impala and reclaims the road, glancing through the window of the tiny shop as he accelerates past it.

Blue eyes cause his heart to skip a beat.

Yeah, he'll definitely be back.


End file.
